Home Tastes Like Cheeseburgers
by PersonifyThis
Summary: This is the real reason why America eats so many cheeseburgers. An attempt to give a nation Synesthesia.
1. Chapter 1

Another attempt at filling something for the Hetalia livejournal meme. Figured I'd post it on here too. I'm too lazy to post it on there (and still don't know lj well enough). Apparently I'm digging the whole write from a prompt thing :D :D

As a child, he didn't realize that everyone couldn't taste the world. Saturdays tasted of honey. The sun tasted like everything from apples to burnt toast. Loneliness tasted like cooked asparagus. When their house was silent or when he saw ships arrive at the docks, he tasted cooked asparagus.

Home always tasted like burgers. Back before they had even been invented, his mouth knew the taste of burgers. Every time he walked in the front door to his little house the taste of a burger bloomed on his tongue. Bacon Cheese Burgers. Mushroom Swiss Burgers. Hawaiian Burgers. Fried Green Tomato Burgers. It depended on the mood of the house. The people in it.

His favorite was coming home and tasting cheeseburger. The taste of lettuce and tomato, onions and ketchup. Simple. Classic. That was his big brother. As soon as he opened the door and heard the accented voice in the kitchen or saw a large pair of boots by the door and he would taste it. Cheeseburgers.

"Arthur!" he yelled, stumbling in the direction of that taste. "You're back! I've missed you."

America threw his arms around Arthur's thighs in a hug.

"Of course I'm back, you silly thing," England said, "You knew I would come back."

"It was just…" Alfred said, "it was a long time."

England pulled the boy off of his legs and patted his head. Together the two of them made fish and chips. When England and America sat down to dinner, America didn't taste the fish and chips. Instead the heavy taste of cheeseburgers clung to his tongue. England sipped at his tea and asked America about his schooling, pets and the land. Alfred spent the evening warm and content with his older brother home. He never tasted cooked asparagus when Arthur was home.

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><p>Alfred mowed through another burger. The world conference was breaking for lunch. Mattie and Alfred were seated in a McDonalds. Stacks of yellow, paper wrapped cheese burgers sat around the two boys. Mattie was across from him nibbling on his food. Alfred had to drag his northern brother into going with him. Munching on his second burger, Alfred tried to ignore the subtle taste of cooked asparagus.<p>

America guzzled down some soda mindlessly talking to Mattie around the straw. He was telling his brother about using dolphins as translators to speak with other animals, but his mind wasn't really on the topic. The blonde superpower inhaled another burger. It didn't matter how many burgers he ate. Everything tasted like cooked asparagus now.

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><p>So now you've read. Review?<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

AN: Because so many people asked for it! Their will be at least one more chapter to wrap it up. Maybe Alfred will get a happy ending :)

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><p>America rolled his chair back and forth. China was talking about his new censorship laws, and all Alfred could hear was blah, blah, blah. China had put hummus boredom in Alfred's mouth. Yuck.<p>

He'd been rolling his pen across his binder, but when he flicked it back up it went to far and hit England in the face. The superpower snorted from the mac n cheese amusement. But England leveled him with a scathing glare and slowly the heavy taste of molasses rose up. It was only an accident. Alfred flashed an apology smile around the mouthful molasses. England kept glaring and Alfred didn't think his old guardian could tell the difference anymore.

When the meeting was over the hummus left his mouth. Nations stood around and chatting with each other. Their murmuring was a blueberry slushy. Alfred stretched. His back popped a little and he savored the taste of pulled caramel.

Finland invited Canada out for drinks with the other Arctic nations. Italy convinced all the Europeans to go out also. Alfred looked around, the African nations had disappeared and the Asian nations were moving towards the door. Alfred put on his cotton candy smile on even while cooked asparagus and yogurt misery set up residence his mouth. England was leaving with France. The two were fighting, but Alfred could see the cotton warmth in their eyes.

"Don't worry, the hero will go also!" American exclaimed to the room. No one listened. Cooked asparagus.

Maybe he'd get a few burgers before going over.

**0000**

At the bar Alfred downed shots of rum. The European nations were all talking to each other about the Euro zone. England was laughing at them and bragging about... something. Alfred couldn't participate in that conversation. The arctic nations were giggling at some joke. He had cooked asparagus in his mouth.

"Hey," a breathy voice said. Alfred looked up to see a dark haired brunette next to him. She was holding a pink drink with an umbrella in it.

"Hi," Alfred said back, giving a smile that tasted of salt. "Do I know you?" He asked.

"No, but you looked lonely over here," she explained. "So I figured I'd visit."

"I'm not lonely! I'm never lonely. Imma, Imma" he stumbled around the words, "I'm a hero!"

She laughed, "sounds awesome!"

Alfred nodded, "yes it's very, very awesome."

"What are you drinkin'?" He asked her. She said some candy name and Alfred shook his head at her.

"You're my new friend." He declared, "We gottsta do shots together!"

She laughed and it was a drop of Coca Cola then agreed. The two pounded back shot after shot. She started to sway and couldn't seem to stop giggling. Alfred inhaled the taste of her Coca Cola laughter. Alfred couldn't feel his teeth after his sixth shot. He laughed with her and when she suggested dancing on the bar top. He thought it sounded like a guacamole good idea. He climbed up first, pulling her up with him. The two bounced and rolled against each other. His body felt like warm, floppy rubber. Alfred kicked a few glasses and watched them shatter. Just for fun.

The people in the bar were hooting and hollering at America's show with his new friend. He was still drinking in her Coca Cola laughter, but he was also laughing too.

"No asparagus," he shouted at his new friend.

She smiled and laughed, "Asparagus sucks!"

The soda's sugary taste popped in his mind. Spilled liquids made the bar slick. His new friend and Alfred leaned all over each other. Alfred grinned. The taste of strawberry ice cream happiness was stuffed in his mouth for the first time in... a while. Alfred wanted to gorge himself on the taste.

Just as Alfred was about to respond he felt a hand wrap around his ankle and another on his shin. He looked down. It was his brother and his not-anymore-brother. He frowned at them. They had peppermint anger on their faces and disappointment hanging from their shoulders. Alfred balked at the nasty tastes. He wanted more of the cola and strawberry ice cream. It was the best thing he'd had in years.

Canada and England wrestled him down off the bar top. The bar tender was hollering. More peppermint. Green tea resentment washed away the coca cola and strawberry ice cream. Alfred frowned at the loss of his new friend. She was still on the bar. The other people in the bar were smiling up at her. He was tugged away from the counter.

**0000**

Alfred bounced when he landed on the bed. Canada was standing above him sighing pumpkin sighs. Alfred rolled his head over to look at Arthur. Peppermint. Canada silently slipped out the door. Alfred only noticed because he took his pumpkin sighs with him. Only peppermint flavored Arthur was left. Peppermint was so cold and sometimes it burnt. He wished he could taste cheeseburger.

"Alfred, go to sleep," the Briton commanded as he moved towards the door. Was he really gonna leave Alfred all by himself again?

"Wait!" Alfred called, "doe, dun…" Alfred struggled to keep hot sauce sadness from falling out of his mouth, "don't leave me!"

England turned back around. Cautious vanilla and strawberry ice cream cooled the hot sauce.

"And why should I stay?" Arthur snapped as he turned back around, "Just because you couldn't handle your liquor is no reason that I should not be able to enjoy myself. Don't be so selfish."

Alfred pressed back into the bed. He felt like a fistful of pennies had been stuffed into his mouth.

"I… I just," Alfred sniffed. His heart bled vanilla caution.

"Oh belt up!" Arthur exclaimed.

Alfred closed his mouth and looked at the bed spread. He wasn't going to cry. Hero's don't cry. Yogurt and copper battled it out on his tongue. He could feel the sourness of plum exasperation rolling off Arthur. The North American waited to hear a door slam. It was dark green. Kinda like Arthur's eyes. Alfred looked up after several moments to see Arthur just staring at him.

Alfred stayed silent. He didn't want to do anything to make the peppermint any worse. He traced patterns into the fabric until he felt the bed shift next to him.

"Alfred," Arthur said, "I didn't mean that."

Alfred nodded. The room was quiet as quiet as a picture. Hot sauce was burning in his heart, but least the cooked asparagus wasn't coming back. Although he thought he might prefer asparagus to hot sauce.

"Alfred."

Alfred looked up to his not-brother. Arthur was sitting right next to him.

"Alfred, say something."

"I'm sorry, Arthur," Alfred whispered. He'd sobered up.

He rolled over and buried his head into the pillow. He wanted cheeseburgers and a coke. His eyes burned. The bed shifted and Alfred hoped Arthur would come over and pet his head like he used to when he was a kid. Even when they fought and Alfred wouldn't hug Arthur, the older nation would always come over to the upset boy and pet his head for a moment. Alfred waited hoping. Instead he heard the door open and close quietly. Tears gathered behind his lashes. He fell asleep to the burn of hot sauce and taste of cooked asparagus.

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><p>Fear not! It had to get worse before it could get better... maybe :D Look for the next chapter sometime this weekend!<p>

Key to emotion-tastes:

Boredom tastes like hummus.

Guilt tastes like molasses.

Misery tastes like yogurt.

Resentment tastes like green tea.

Sorrow tastes like hot sauce.

Loneliness taste like cooked asparagus.

Caution tastes like vanilla.

Pain tastes like pennies/copper.

Fear tastes like marshmallows.

Disappointment tastes like pumpkin.

Anger tastes like peppermint.

Happiness tastes like strawberry ice cream.

Laughter tastes like Coca Cola.

Friendship tastes like guacamole.

Pride tastes like coffee.

Trust taste like BBQ.

Kindness tastes like apple cider.

Humor tastes like chocolate.

Amusement tastes like mac n cheese.


	3. Chapter 3

Hope you enjoy!

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><p>America didn't sleep that night. He went out and got cheeseburgers instead. The McDonalds was quiet at 2 am and it was odd to hear the accented voice of the cashier ask for his order. Even the red and yellow of the sign looked dulled, as if the crossing to England had pulled some of its vibrancy from it. Somehow Alfred managed to find himself on the banks of the Thames looking up at Big Ben and thinking of his childhood and cheeseburgers.<p>

When he was really little, before the taste of cheeseburgers became synonymous with Arthur, America didn't speak English. He spoke a patois of the tribal dialects. In every other sentence his words jumped from Algonquian to Cherokee to Iroquois. It had been enough for him to get by on the rare chance he had to interact with one of the tribes. Until Arthur came.

At first Arthur had just said one word per encounter. Flower. Rabbit. Dirt. Alfred soaked up the words he offered. Arthur would let America sit on his lap. The boy loved the way the words rolled around his mouth, slide in between his teeth and fell off his tongue. As time passed on England began teaching him more words each time.

Jam. Cheese. Strawberries. Bread.

Ball. Story. Flute.

Hat. Water. Ship. Wind.

Fur. Land. Brother.

Learning words with Arthur was blueberry sweet. He loved it. Alfred bit into another burger. Blueberries were his favorite flavor back then. He hadn't discovered the taste of cheeseburgers yet.

That was part of the reason why he allows his Americans to come up with so many words all the time. When hello split into hi, hey, howdy, sup, and yo the taste of blueberries actually blocked out the taste of asparagus for a few days and reminded him of better days. It was wonderful.

Alfred sat on the top of the half wall and looked down into the sluggish river. He unwrapped his first cheeseburger. Biting into it, he mulled over how things had gotten so bad. The Revolutionary War and War of 1812 had broken England and America's relations, but the two countries had got over their differences in the early 20th century. However, Arthur and Alfred had not. Personifications don't always follow the direction of their countries. In this case Alfred wished they did.

The pavement shone in the lamp light. A woman's heels clicked behind him. Alfred slurped on his Coke and drummed his heels against the wall. He had a strange mixture of pear and yogurt lingering in his mouth. He was almost relieved to taste them… it was a break from the never ending cooked asparagus. He tried to poke the sweet pear tranquility with his tongue, but it was hiding behind his teeth.

The clicking stopped. Alfred felt a presence next to him. He looked up expecting to see long hair and pouty lips instead he saw a flat chest and thick eyebrows. Quickly, Alfred looked down before the other could catch his eyes. Shiny black shoes with a small heel. Huh, not women's shoes… just womanly clicking.

"Alfred," the voice said. The sound of that voice made his teeth clench in cheddar embarrassment. He couldn't believe he had asked for Arthur to stay with him. So stupid.

The shoes… they were nice shoes. It looked like the owner had just had them shined. Alfred would never wear shoes like that just thinking about him wearing the shiny black shoes made mac n cheese burst in his mouth.

"Alfred, Al," the voice wouldn't stop calling his name. The laces of those shoes were tied tightly too. Nice wide loops that-

A hand came down on his shoulder and another on his chin. His chin was tugged up. He kept his eyes looking down.

"You're so stubborn. Fine. Don't look at me." A coin was on the ground next to the left shoe.

"I don't understand why you wanted me to stay with you before," the voice said.

Because our countries are brothers again and we still aren't and I hate that.

Alfred shrugged at the voice. The two were still for a moment. Alfred wondered which side of the coin meant it was lucky. He struggled with the British monetary system. Why couldn't everywhere have dollars and pennies? That'd be so much better.

"Alright, fine, forget I came here."

The clicking started again and Alfred looked up to see a dark peacoat and the back of a blonde head.

Shyly Alfred raised his eyes. Arthur had sought him out. He'd come to find Alfred. Alfred jumped up, he could get over his yogurt misery and cheddar embarrassment. If Arthur was gonna try then Alfred could try too!

"I don't like cooked asparagus!" He exclaimed at that dark back.

His not-any-more brother turned around, "what?" he said.

"I don't like cooked asparagus. I miss the taste of cheeseburgers and coca cola. And…"

"You were just eating cheeseburgers," Arthur interrupted, "How could you possibly miss something you always eat?"

He felt his cheeks heat up. He didn't want to say this out loud. Those green eyes just stared at him hard and flat. Fine. Fine.

"Not that… Cheeseburgers remind me of you 'n when you liked me… 'n I miss _that_," he mumbled. Ugh, he was turning into such a girl. The taste of coffee wrapped around Alfred. He'd told him. He'd done it. Now everything'd be ok.

"Sorry? I didn't catch that," Arthur said.

Alfred's eyes widened. What? He had to say it again? Someone must really hate America. But he was a hero so he could do it.

He cleared his throat roughly. "Not cheeseburgers cheeseburgers, but the taste of cheeseburgers when you were still my brother and you liked me even when I was stupid and illiterate and a baby. Cooked asparagus is loneliness and I haven't been able to get the taste out of my mouth in decades… and why can our countries be brothers again and we can't?" Alfred blurted.

"Excuse me?" Arthur croaked.

"You heard me… Don't make me say it again. It's embarrassing."

A hesitant touch brought Alfred's eyes up to his not-anymore-brother's. His face wasn't scowling like usual. His eyes had softened too.

"Cheeseburgers remind you of me when you were little?" Arthur asked.

He nodded yes.

"Oh Alfred," the words were sighed.

A hand wrapped around the back of his head and suddenly he found himself being crushed to Arthur's chest. Arthur's other hand was in his hair petting.

"Alfred, Alfred, Alfred," Arthur murmured, "what am I ever going to do with you?"

Alfred blinked. The younger nation turned his head into his maybe-brother's chest and wrapped his arms around his waist.

"Wanna keep me?" He mumbled.

A rumbling laugh and chuckled, "of course, you git," answered his question. The back of Alfred's salivary glands began watering. Cheeseburgers. Alfred turned his head and looked back to his rumpled paper bag. He was tasting cheeseburgers again! Alfred laughed and hugged Arthur's waist tighter. Strawberry ice cream joy dripped down his throat and it was a million times better than what he tasted earlier.

* * *

><p>Yay a happy ending for Alfred! Now that I've been playing in this world for a few days I'm kind of enjoying it. So maybe there'll be an epilogue or sequel or something in the future.<p>

Anywhoo a request, you read this and it took a few minutes. And you really enjoyed it, right? Well I wrote it and it took an hour. So why not spend the extra minute and let me know if you enjoyed it? Alfred says that'd be the heroic thing to do!

Thanks!


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